


A Study in Rope

by AgentInfinity



Series: Porn!AU [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blowjobs, D/s, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Gags, Kink, M/M, Modern AU, Nipple Clamps, Porn With Plot, Restraints, actual porn stars e/R, porn au, rope binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentInfinity/pseuds/AgentInfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m planning on tying you to the bed tonight and playing with you until you forget your name.  What kind of rope would you like me to use for that?” he asks bluntly. Grantaire swallows the lump in his throat and squashes the urge to shift in his seat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Rope

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the next part of this 'verse. Trigger warnings for the things I've tagged. If I missed anything in the tags that you think should be in there, let me know and I'll be happy to fix it. As always, this is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

“Yes, but if we can raise enough awareness that sexual conduct that is safe and sane between consenting adults isn’t shameful, people will _have_ to listen. They will have to pay attention to us and our ideas.” Enjolras is fired up today. Grantaire, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Jehan are currently speaking on a panel at the annual Fetish Expo. It started out well, with sharp questions and nice, thought-provoking answers. But about forty minutes into that, Grantaire decided to actually join in instead of just making jokes and providing comic relief.

That Enjolras took personal offense to Grantaire’s responses is a vast understatement.

“That is completely ignoring the whole of human history. There has never been a time in which some societies did not condemn sexual freedom as sinful and dirty. It simply has never been, whether you believe in evolution OR the deeply flawed idea of creationism. Those are insurmountable odds if ever I’ve heard them. There are many cultures in the world right now that would execute you and all your sexual partners merely for living the life you currently live. Sure, it’s evil and unjust, but it’s unchangeable. It just simply _is_.”

Enjolras is on the edge of his seat, leaning forward and craning his neck down the table to speak directly to Grantaire. Grantaire is very pleased with himself.

“We would never gain any progress if that view was just accepted for everything that’s new and frightening to some people. Science and medicine and literature and industry and culture itself would be stuck back in the earliest days of man if no one ever went against that cynical belief that there’s no point to try. It’s human nature to evolve and learn and grow. It’s only those who fight against their natural urges who refuse to listen and learn and change.”

The rest of the panel members as well as the audience and the moderator, the poor, poor moderator who has all but given up, are just sitting quietly with their heads turning back and forth as if watching a tennis match. Combeferre is standing in the back of the hall with one arm across his chest and the other resting on it to cover his eyes with his hand. He has thrown them out of his and Enjolras’ apartment on more than one occasion for their, uh, _lively_ discussions.

“But, those are the ones that are never going to hear you. They don’t _want_ to listen or learn or change. They don’t care to because not doing that has worked for them so far. Why change the equation if it works? The people who agree with you have always agreed with you and those who don’t agree aren’t going to bother. It’s nothing but a cycle you can never win.”

“Sexuality, whether it’s your orientation or your preferences, should be a freeing experience as long as it’s consensual. It’s madness to just settle for living shamefully because of the stigma attached to what your natural inclinations tell you to do. No one should have to live like that. _We_ shouldn’t have to live like that. With our identities hidden under rocks because the world tells us that what we like is wrong or perverted. That shouldn’t be happening now, and we should do our damnedest to make sure it doesn’t happen in the future.”

And that is game, set, and match. Enjolras is receiving uproarious applause and cheers from the crowd all the while he grins smugly at Grantaire and raises one eyebrow. Grantaire lifts his bottle of water and tips it toward him. He hadn’t wanted to put him down or ‘win’ whatever battle it was they were having. This is just their thing. They often don’t agree. It’s very nice to have someone on his level who will both argue over the State of Things with him and then accompany him to pick out a suit for the gallery opening he’s attending.

And the sex is also very nice. And also not nice. In a good way.

But in any case, Enjolras talks about the injustices he sees, and then Grantaire tears down his arguments for him.

Par for the course.

Grantaire wouldn't even be on this panel to fuck up their nice and prearranged course if Enjolras hadn’t asked him to be there.

_Grantaire has just lathered up his face and placed the razor on his cheek when Enjolras pops around the bathroom door and starts talking._

_“So, what did they ask you to do for the expo this year?” Enjolras is trying to sound nonchalant, and it is so not working out for him._

_“Jesus fucking christ, Enjolras,” Grantaire sputters, startled. “I am not in the mood for blood sports or heart attacks today.” He takes a breath and tries to calm his pounding heart before bringing his razor back up to start shaving._

_“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says, fidgeting. “Well?”_

_“Well, what?” Grantaire is just being a little shit now._

_“What did they ask you to do for the expo?” Enjolras asks again, a bit exasperated._

_“A couple rope bondage classes and a shibari demo with Jehan.”_

_“Do you know when they are yet?” If he gives Enjolras enough time, he_ will _get to the point; Grantaire is sure of it._

_“I think one class is late Friday afternoon and the other is Saturday morning. The demo is Saturday evening sometime.”_

_“So, you’d be free Friday at one?”_

_“Enjolras, dear, will you kindly get to the point? It’s hard to concentrate on shaving when you’re acting like a freshman nerd asking out a jock senior.”_

_“Fine, I’m doing a panel on the negative stigma of BDSM in modern society, and I’d like you to be on the panel.” It’s cute to see him all flustered, but_ what??

_”You want me on a panel. With you. To discuss something about which you know we disagree. On a panel. In front of people.” Grantaire thinks Enjolras might have lost his sense of self-preservation._

_“Yes, Grantaire, I want you on a panel with me to talk about something we disagree on. It’s not going to be a good panel if everyone just goes along with everyone else. You’ll bring a different outlook, a well-researched one, I’m sure, and some diversity. It’ll make it more interesting, and I’d like you there.” Grantaire finishes shaving and wipes the rest of the shaving cream off with a washcloth. He thinks for a moment._

_“Okay, I’ll do it,” Grantaire raises a hand to silence Enjolras’ next statement. “But, with these two conditions.” Enjolras nods. “One, you can’t get angry at me for disagreeing with you when the day actually comes. You say you want more diversity now, but when I get started talking, you’ll probably want to shoot me.”_

_“Agreed. What’s number two?” Enjolras is a bit nervous now. It’s wonderful._

_“You have to agree to be my model at either both classes or one class and my demo.” Enjolras starts to nod, but then freezes._

_“Like as the person being tied up?” Grantaire is very interested to see what Enjolras does with this._

_“Yes. You will be the one tied up.”_

_"Uh, well. Hm," he mumbles, facial expressions changing quicker than Grantaire can follow. He spends a few moments basking in the glory of Enjolras uncertain and wordless before he takes pity on him._

_"I was just fucking around. Yeah, I'll do your panel, and you don't have to do anything in return. I already have a few people chosen anyway."_

_Enjolras' thoughts are almost audible as he puts a hand up to block Grantaire's exit from the bathroom._

_"Uh, E?"_

_"I'll do it." Enjolras looks spectacularly terrified._

_"What?"_

_"Your classes, I'll do them with you. As your," he can't quite get out the word 'sub', "partner."_

_"You can say the word 'sub', E. It's not gonna be like that anyway. You'd be more of a model I can use to demonstrate what I'm talking about. No subs needed. You know how this goes." Grantaire smiles at him. "You don't have to do it at all. I really was just fucking around with you. I know you have absolutely zero submissive tendencies in that brain of yours."_

_"No, really. It’s okay. It’s a deal.” Because Enjolras is incapable of backing down from a challenge, even one made in jest. He should really work on that._

_“Okay fine. Deal,” Grantaire puts his hand out for Enjolras to shake. “Now, I’m late for my gallery meeting. May I please leave the bathroom, Sir?”_

And that had been that. So, here they were. The panel ended not long after Enjolras got that standing ovation for his ridiculous yet heartfelt idealistic bullshit. They had a few hours to kill before Grantaire’s first class.

Of course they went back to their suite and fucked in the freshly made bed. And then in the shower. You’d think two people who fuck other people for a living might be able to keep their libidos in check for more than a day.

They weren’t. It was when they were curled around each other back in the bed still damp and naked that Grantaire brought up Enjolras’ favorite thing. Consent.

“So, are you absolutely sure you’re okay with being my model for these classes? It’s fine if you’re not, and I’d rather not have you agree to do it just because you have a hang-up about backing down.” Enjolras raised his eyebrows and chuckled.

“Did you just give me the consent talk?”

“Yes, I did. You might forget that while I am wholly yours within the confines of our relationship, I am also a switch. One who shoots porn as a dom. Frequently.” Grantaire hadn’t done another shoot as a sub since the one that brought him and Enjolras together three months ago. It was likely that he never would again. It was too much to do it repeatedly for a camera with the man he loved. It felt cheap, and they had decided not to do it again. Fetish’s bank accounts mourned their loss.

Of course, privately, it was a completely different story.

"I didn't forget, it's just something new for us." Enjolras is quiet for a moment. "You know, beyond the training I did before I started, I’ve never been tied up. I’ve never had to be submissive to anyone.” Grantaire snorts.

“Well, yeah, I figured that. You are quite possibly the least submissive person I’ve ever met. It’s possible that you were predestined to be a dominant sex god.”

“Leave it to you to bring the concepts of fate and inevitability into our consent discussion.” Enjolras really is nervous about this. Grantaire sighs.

“It’s not even going to be like a scene. You took a few of these classes when you started. You know how they go. Informal and relaxed. You’re going to help me demonstrate how to do some beginning level shit and then go around with me so they can see what it’s supposed to look like. You can even walk the floor and help while I’m speaking.”

“How many of these classes have you taught?” Grantaire hums in thought.

“I have no clue. I do a few classes a month for all the new hires that might be tying someone up. Most of the time they have the experts on hand for the off-camera stuff, but the rope work that the actors do, I teach them. I’ve been doing it for a couple years now. I took a few suspension courses and did a few shibari seminars when I first started as solely a dom.”

"Even now, there’s so much I don’t know about you. You’re wonderful,” Enjolras says and leans over to kiss him.

"It's nothing." Grantaire still doesn't like praise. It simultaneously lifts him up and makes him feel guilty. Knee-jerk reaction.

"It is. I would have already been in some of your classes if I’d known you did so many. The guy they had when I was hired was an asshole.” Grantaire ponders having Enjolras as a student and smiles to himself. Would he be a great student or the worst?

Then he notices the clock on the nightstand.

“Shit. We’re gonna be late unless we can get down there in four minutes.”

***

“Hello, all. Welcome to Rope Bondage I. I’m R. If you didn’t receive your rope supply bag at registration, raise your hand and someone will bring you one.” Grantaire waits for everyone to gather their materials, which for this class are basically some rope and a set of medical grade fabric clippers. Enjolras is standing on the side of the stage awkwardly with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. Grantaire shoots him a reassuring smile and turns back to the room.

“Okay, if you’re taking this as a qualifying class to shoot for Fetish, come up to the stage after and see me. If you’re not, then you are free to leave whenever you like, though for the sake of my ego, I prefer you wait until the end of the class.” He clears his throat and beckons Enjolras over to him. He’d wrapped a good length of rope around his shoulder on his way out so Enjolras wouldn’t have to hold it. Enjolras’ eyes are still wide with apprehension, but he is hiding it well with heaps of fake confidence.

“Mr. Jack Mirabeau is going to be helping me out today, which is very out of character for him, so be nice.” Enjolras shoots him a flat, unimpressed look, to which Grantaire answers with a pat on the shoulder and a grin. An antagonized Enjolras will be less nervous than a placated Enjolras.

"For starters, there are rules. Rule number one. The purpose of bondage is to restrain. Never, ever cut off circulation, and make sure to keep a check throughout the scene that your partner’s limbs aren’t turning white or blue or staying cold for an extended period of time.

“Rule number two is to have a quick escape plan. Always have a pair of flat-sided medical scissors handy in case you need to get your partner out of a restraint quickly. We’ve given you a pair in your supplies.

“Rule number three is to communicate. This is just basic BDSM etiquette. Communication and negotiation should always take place before a scene, whether you’re at work or at home or in a club. Be thorough and never just assume.

“Lastly, it’s best to work with braided nylon rope that’s around 7/16” when you’re starting out. It doesn’t slip too much, and it’s inexpensive for learning. If you work at Fetish, we have the good stuff. Cotton and silk.” Enjolras is watching Grantaire like he’s sprouted another head, but Grantaire doesn’t have time to ponder that. He’s got sixty students staring at him anxious to start tying up each other.

“Alright, grab your partners and let’s start, shall we?” Grantaire waves the cameraman over a bit closer so he can shoot just their hands for the projector screen.

“First, we’re gonna start with the lark’s head. It’s very simple, but it’s necessary for a ton of other knots. Take the two ends of your rope and put them together so you’ve doubled your rope, and then pull the two ends through like so,” he explains as he demonstrates for the camera. Then he hangs the rope from his arm and grabs both of Enjolras’ hands, turning them so his palms are facing together. “Then slide your loop over your partner’s hands and pull the ends taut.” Enjolras seems composed so far, so he continues.

“That’s the lark’s head. If you pull the ends to this side,” he does it as he says it, “then you can see what is supposed to resemble an avian head. I do not know why the lark was chosen, but I’m sure it’s very proud.” Some laughs trickle up from the crowd. “Does anyone need help so far? Don’t be shy, no one’s going to judge you here.” A few hands come up and he sends Enjolras out to assist as he heads off-stage to do the same. “Now switch and let your partner try.”

After they’ve returned to the stage, Grantaire brings Enjolras’ hands together once more and slips the rope over them. “This is a basic rope cuff. Start with the lark’s head and then place two fingers between the wrists of your partner. Have them hold their arms that width apart while you wind the rope around their wrists a few more times.” Enjolras is, whether consciously or not, pulling his hands further apart than where Grantaire had placed them, and Grantaire has to bring them back to their original position and start over. He looks at Enjolras and raises his brows. Enjolras takes a breath and nods, keeping his hands the correct width apart.

“Once you do this a few times, you’ll get a feel for how far apart their hands need to be to avoid cutting off circulation, which, again, you _never_ want to do, and won’t need to use your fingers to measure.” He pauses while everyone catches up. “Now take the ends and wrap them between the wrists around the cuffs you just made. Wrap them three times.” After he’s finished, Grantaire pulls on the ends a few times, ushering Enjolras toward him by his arms.

"This is a good basic tie that will work for keeping your partners-slash-subs restrained and is easy to fasten them to something like a ceiling hook or hand bar or anything that can hold them really.” He raises the ends of the rope above his head bringing Enjolras’ arms up at the same time. Enjolras has gone eerily still, and his face has gone blank. He doesn’t know what it means, but he quickly undoes his rope work and rubs his fingertips against Enjolras’ wrists. Enjolras looks up at Grantaire a bit surprised and just blinks at him. Grantaire inclines his head to silently ask if everything’s okay. Enjolras lifts one side of his mouth to give him a small, lopsided grin and seems perfectly himself once more.

“We’re gonna come back out to the floor to make sure everyone’s doing alright. If you have a question or need help, just raise your hand.”

***

The rest of the class goes by uneventful. Grantaire teaches them six more rope restraints and signs off on all the documents for those taking the class for certification. Enjolras loosens up about halfway through and seems to enjoy himself. Or in the very least seems to enjoy watching Grantaire. Grantaire doesn’t know how to feel about that or what it means, but for now, he’s just glad Enjolras isn’t freaking out and shouting ‘red’.

They decide to walk to a nearby restaurant for dinner and leave the conference center hand-in-hand, happily talking about daily trivialities and enjoying the warm breeze.

Enjolras takes a drink of wine and waits for Grantaire’s laughter to subside. They’ve ordered their food and Enjolras is regaling him with the story of his first experience with dominance and submission play.

“So, you just said ‘thank you’ and left before he’d even started?”

“Well, I was flustered and embarrassed and seventeen. He’d been talking about suspension hooks and electrified buttplugs.” Grantaire gives Enjolras a fond smile over his own glass, filled with soda instead of wine.

“Yes, I can see where that would be overwhelming.” They both chuckle a bit more and let time lapse into a comfortable silence.

“I really enjoyed watching you teach today,” Enjolras says after a few moments. “You’re clearly really passionate about the art of bondage and teaching it to others.” Grantaire snorts.

“I don’t know about passionate, but I like it. I’m alright at it, and no one’s complained about me yet.” Enjolras frowns a bit, but Grantaire’s self-esteem is an old argument for them and an uphill battle for Grantaire, so he doesn’t mention Grantaire’s casual dismissal of his skills. Grantaire’s thankful.

“You had everyone in the class charmed. You’re very good at instructing.”

“Well, I’ve had a few years’ practice at instructing,” Grantaire smirks. “I thought you were going to run away at first, though,” he says, throwing the conversation away from Enjolras’ praise of him.

“I was a bit overwhelmed. To tell the truth, it’s been years since I took my first class and had someone bind my hands. I trust you, but it’s still disconcerting. Not necessarily bad, though. It just reinforced how special it is that you let me bind you and take control of you.” Grantaire flushed a little and took a sip of his drink.

“Don’t get all mushy on me now, E,” he says, but he can feel his face beaming. Enjolras is looking at him with so much emotion that Grantaire has to look away. He still doesn’t know what deity he honored or how many kittens he saved in a past life in order to end up with Enjolras, but he is very glad he did. The next time he looks up, Enjolras looks thoughtful.

“Is rope your preferred method of binding?” Enjolras asks just as the waitress is placing their plates in front of them. She lets go of Grantaire’s plate a bit too soon and it bangs loudly onto the table. The food, thankfully, does not splatter him. She sheepishly apologizes and scampers away from them.

“E, I think you embarrassed her,” Grantaire teases as he places his napkin in his lap.

“People should not be embarrassed or ashamed of their—,” Enjolras starts, but Grantaire puts a hand up.

“I think there’s been enough discussion of _that_ for one day. Please continue about the rope.”

“Well, you seem to enjoy using rope on others so much, I was just wondering if it was your favorite binding to have used on you.” Grantaire chews a bite of chicken thoughtfully and then nods.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite restraint whether I’m topping or subbing.”

“What exactly do you like about it?” Grantaire eyes Enjolras suspiciously, but decides to answer.

“I like its versatility. It can be used for restraint, obviously, but it can also be used for other things. Cock cages, gags, pressure bindings on clits and scrotums. It can be artful and creative or quick and straightforward.” Grantaire stops and raises his eyebrows at his boyfriend. Enjolras is still gazing at him thoughtfully.

“What do you like specifically about being restrained by it?”

“I like how it feels on my skin when I pull against it. I like the marks it leaves and how it tightens when I struggle but gives when I do. It’s like an extension of the dom yet reflects the movements I make.” Hmm. Maybe Grantaire really _is_ passionate about rope.

“And what’s your favorite type of rope?” Grantaire has to think on this for a bit. Enjolras gives him time and they both just sit and eat for a few minutes.

“Probably jute, but really, it depends on what it’s being used for. And jute is expensive and hard to find outside of Japan.” Enjolras fixes him with a cool gaze.

“I’m planning on tying you to the bed tonight and playing with you until you forget your name. What kind of rope would you like me to use for that?” he asks bluntly. Grantaire swallows the lump in his throat and squashes the urge to shift in his seat.

“Treated hemp,” Grantaire chokes out. Enjolras nods once and continues eating.

***

Grantaire is kneeling naked on the plush carpet of their suite’s bedroom. His left hand is holding his right wrist and his head is downcast. Upon their return to the hotel’s conference center, Enjolras had told Grantaire to go to their room, spend thirty minutes doing as he pleased, and then to undress, kneel by the bed and wait for him. The only thing he wasn’t allowed to do in the interim was touch himself. Enjolras had given him these instructions while texting someone, only looking up briefly to make sure Grantaire was okay with this.

Grantaire is _so_ okay with this. Between their work schedules, Enjolras’ charity and activism work, and Grantaire’s increasing influx of commissions (thanks to a very lucrative gallery showing), they’d barely had time to see each other, much less do a scene together. Grantaire had even joked about doing another shoot just so they’d have time to fuck properly.

He’s spent only about ten minutes in the floor when he hears Enjolras’ key card slide into the lock on the door and the accompanying beep and click as it unlocks. His skin immediately breaks out into gooseflesh when Enjolras opens the bedroom door behind him and strides in, the bag hanging from his arm jingling quietly. Enjolras doesn’t speak to him, but walks around the room, putting the bag down on the bed, stepping out of his shoes, and shucking his socks off. A soft swish tells Grantaire his shirt is now gone as well.

Grantaire is struggling to stay still, but his natural inclination to wiggle and fidget is weighing on him. He’s faced toward the side of the bed, but with his head turned downward, it’s impossible for him to see what Enjolras has pulled out of the bag. He’s guessing there’s rope in there. One of the vendors from the conference sells a vast variety of rope, including many different kinds of hemp. As for what could be jingling, Grantaire doesn’t know. Could be lots of things.

He’s shifting his knees around minutely and twisting his hands around behind him when Enjolras puts a hand on the back of his neck and murmurs, “Be still, Grantaire.” He goes into the adjoined bathroom and starts brushing his teeth. That’s another thing Grantaire never had to discuss with him. Enjolras enjoys a few beers every now and then and a glass or two of wine with dinner sometimes, but he always brushes his teeth or rinses with mouthwash before he kisses Grantaire.

Grantaire is immensely grateful he never had to have that mortifying conversation with Enjolras. This thought helps him stop squirming until Enjolras comes back into the room and starts arranging things on the bedside table.

A few moments pass, and then Enjolras’ hand is in Grantaire’s hair, dragging his head upward until he can see Grantaire’s face. His other hand slides down Grantaire’s cheek lovingly and then firmly grasps him under his chin so Grantaire could not look away even if he wanted to.

“You are going to lie down on your back on the bed and allow me to tie your arms and legs to it without any struggling or you won’t be allowed to come tonight. Understood?” Enjolras asks, quietly. Grantaire swallows thickly and nods.

“Yes, Sir.” Grantaire fought wildly once right after they started dating just to see what Enjolras would do. He had problems sitting down comfortably for a few days after that. Enjolras releases him and steps back so Grantaire can follow his instructions. Grantaire lies down on the bed and settles himself with his arms above his head and his legs spread. A shiver runs up his back as he anticipates what Enjolras has in store for him.

Enjolras picks up a length of rope from the bedside table and sets to work on his left wrist, using one of the techniques he taught in his class that afternoon. It makes Grantaire grin, even though he knows Enjolras knew how to do it before then. He sneaks a look over at the table and sees what was clinking in the bag. A set of clover clamps. He throws his head back against a pillow and sighs. He has really sensitive nipples, and regular alligator clamps send his head into a whirlwind. He’s only had clover clamps used on him one other time and he cried and came harder than he ever had before that point. It had been torment and bliss. But a lot of torment had happened before the bliss.

And it was Enjolras who had used them on him.

The same Enjolras who was now looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Problem?” The smug bastard was giving him a wry grin.

“No, Sir,” Grantaire answers, but then decides to throw caution to the wind. “Just wondering what I did to make you want to use clover clamps.” Enjolras grabs another piece of rope and starts on his other wrist. He speaks without looking at Grantaire.

“What makes you think you have to do something wrong in order for me to give you pain? You are here for my enjoyment, and that can include hurting you simply because I want to.” He finishes securing Grantaire’s hand to the headboard and half pats, half smacks his cheek before moving down to attach his ankles to the foot of the bed. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” he asks, almost as an afterthought.

“No, Sir.”

“Didn’t think so.” The last piece of rope is nylon instead of hemp and already tied into a bit with two free ends dangling from each side. Enjolras swings it idly as he sits on his knees between Grantaire’s legs after he’s finished completely restraining Grantaire to the bed, including a particularly scratchy piece of unfinished hemp tied around his abdomen and attached to each side of the bed frame. His arms and legs are stretched unforgivingly and the rope around his middle stops him from lifting his hips more than an inch off the bed. He is officially not going anywhere. The only other objects left on the bedside table are a bottle of lube and the clover clamps. 

“What do you say if you want to slow down?” Enjolras asks.

“Yellow,” he replies. He likes ‘yellow’ much better than ‘mercy’.

“And if you want to stop?”

“Red.”

“And the nonverbal cue?” Grantaire taps the headboard rhythmically with his hands.

“Good. Color?”

“Green.” And then Enjolras is pushing the bit between his teeth and fastening it at the back of his head, giving it a tug when he’s finished to check it isn’t too tight or too loose. It’s not very thick, so he’ll still be able to talk and be understood, it’ll just sound ridiculous. Grantaire is already tugging fruitlessly against his ropes, the skin around his wrists and ankles becoming irritated. He’s completely exhilarated. Enjolras seems to be feeling the same way, straddling him and dragging his fingernails up and down Grantaire’s chest, grinning at the red lines left behind.

“I’ve been planning an elaborate scene for weeks, but when you started waxing poetic about rope at dinner, I knew I had to do something different. Anything that makes you speak like that is special. And I do want to give my boy everything he needs.” A few seconds later, a particularly vicious scratch is etched into his skin making him hiss and look up at Enjolras.

“What do you say?” Enjolras asks admonishingly.

“Thank you, Sir,” Grantaire mumbles around the bit. Jesus christ, Enjolras must have been missing Grantaire just as much as Grantaire missed him. He’s being _mean_.

“You’re welcome. Now, I want you to close your eyes and keep them shut.” Grantaire obeys. “Good boy.” Enjolras is rubbing Grantaire’s nipples, squeezing them and rolling them between his fingers. Grantaire groans against the bit in his mouth, biting down on it and trying to buck his hips upward to get some friction against his cock. Enjolras smacks his hip and says in a low voice, “Be still, but feel free to moan all you want.”

Enjolras leans down and sucks one nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue across it while still squeezing the other with his fingers. Once Grantaire lets out a particularly loud yelp in response to Enjolras biting down, he switches to the other nipple and gives it the same treatment. When Enjolras finally pulls off with a loud smack, Grantaire’s nipples are sore and swollen. He’s sure they’re bright red and standing at attention, but obediently, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Look at you, all flushed and wrecked just from that. I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight.” He leans down and whispers, letting his lips graze Grantaire’s ear. “And you’re going to come apart so beautifully for me.” Grantaire shivers and feels goose bumps take over the territory of his skin once more. He’s lost in his head, in Enjolras when the first clamp goes on.

“Arrghh,” he exclaims, eloquently. The first shooting bits of pain are immediate and bright. They last for a few moments before settling down into a dull pain, but Grantaire knows as soon as the clamp gets moved or jostled the pain will be right back where it started.

And he has no illusions that Enjolras is just going to clamp his nipples and then leave them unattended.

The other clamp goes on in the same quick and efficient manner, and Grantaire breathes deeply, trying to stem some of the throbbing.

“Open your eyes, Grantaire.” He blinks a few times, getting used to the light in the room, and then looks up at Enjolras. The overhead lamp is cascading light downward over him, illuminating his silhouette and giving him a faint glow. Grantaire forgets to breathe. The lopsided smirk that Grantaire simultaneously loves and hates is present on Enjolras’ lips, and a spike of fear courses through him.

“Would you like to suck me off, Grantaire?”

“Yes, Sir,” he mumbles around the gag. He really, really would.

“Beg me to let you.” Grantaire has to be in a certain mindset to beg, and he’s not there yet. But, he’ll try. Enjolras will get him there eventually, even if the process is less than pleasant.

“Please, Sir, let me have your cock in my mouth. Please let me make you feel good.”

“Hm. I don’t think you really want to,” Enjolras says, cocking his head to the side and frowning a bit.

“Please, Sir. Yes, I really want to. I _need_ it, Sir. Please let me,” Grantaire tries again, spit soaking the bit as he tries to push words out around it.

“I don’t believe you,” Enjolras says lowly, and grabs for the chain linking the clamps together. Grantaire has a split second to try and prepare himself before Enjolras is tugging on the chain. His torso comes up off the bed as much as his bindings will let him and he struggles to get enough breath to scream. It is agony, pure and unrelenting. In the end, all he manages to get out is a strangled cry as tears leak from his eyes. Enjolras lessens the pressure on the chain just enough for Grantaire to let himself drop back to the bed without pulling off his nipples.

“Wanna try that again?” Grantaire’s chest is heaving with breath as he tries to relax his muscles and quiet the screaming in his head that is saying, “Abort, abort, this is nuts, why are you doing this????”

“Please, Sir, _please_. Let me have your cock. Please, I just want to make you feel good. Please, Sir,” Grantaire chokes out. His head is going fuzzy with endorphins and he’s slipping into his subspace. It must register in his voice or his face as well, since Enjolras smiles and nods. He lets go of the chain briefly to untie the rope bit, but picks it right back up again once Grantaire’s mouth is free.

“Well done. You may have my cock.” Keeping the chain firmly in his grip, he slides up Grantaire’s torso and hovers the head of his dick over Grantaire’s open mouth, dropping down just enough for Grantaire to be able to take all of him in his mouth if he strains his neck upward. He fucking loves blowing Enjolras. The noises he can pull from those lips and the flush he can make rise in those cheeks can get him hard faster than just about anything. In fact, the erection that had pretty much disappeared during the whole getting-his-nipples-tortured thing is back in full force, and he can feel it leaking.

Enjolras snakes a hand into Grantaire’s hair and fucks his mouth on his cock. The weight of it in his mouth, the ever-present painful pressure on his nipples, and the sight of Enjolras above him, smiling lazily as he fucks into Grantaire’s mouth is just…it’s too much. It makes Grantaire want to come right there, untouched, but he hasn’t received permission yet.

He figures it’ll be awhile yet. So he does the only thing his sensation-addled brain can think to do. He sucks and licks and twists his head in Enjolras’ grip and loses himself in his task. He’s rewarded with a satisfied hum. A few more thrusts, and Enjolras pulls out and slides back down Grantaire to rest between his legs. Grantaire doesn’t quite understand why he wasn’t allowed to make Enjolras come, but he doesn’t question it. He knows good things will come if he’s patient. Enjolras has this down to a science, and Grantaire trusts him.

Enjolras runs his hands down Grantaire’s sides and down his legs, slapping sharply when he gets to the inside of his thighs, and jostling the clamps. Grantaire simply groans and rolls his head.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says, but he is lost in a haze of pain and happiness and security. He tries to answer but no words come.

“Grantaire!” Enjolras says once more, sternly, reaching up to grab Grantaire’s jaw in a vice-like grip. The suddenness of the movement and noise is enough to snap him out of his haze a bit.

“Yes, Sir?” Grantaire says, hearing his voice from far away, as if someone else was speaking words from his mouth.

“Color?” Enjolras has his eyes locked on Grantaire’s face, scrutinizing each twitch and movement.

“So totally green.” Enjolras narrows his eyes and slides off Grantaire to rest beside him on his knees.

“Are you sure? Do you need some time?” He still sounds commanding, but also apprehensive. Grantaire decides to nip that in the bud.

“All I need, Sir, is to make you come and then beg you to let me come.” As he says this aloud, he comes back to himself a bit. Enough to lock gazes with Enjolras and reassure him that all is well.

“Very well, then. You’re doing so well.” Enjolras’ voice is like a caress, and Grantaire closes his eyes and smiles.

“Thank you, Sir.” 

“Lift your hips up as much as you can.” Enjolras slides a pillow under his hips, which gives better access to his ass, but also makes it impossible for Grantaire to move his lower body at all. He hears rustling and then the bottle of lube being opened. When he opens his eyes, Enjolras is once again kneeling between his legs, and sliding a slick finger inside him, grazing his prostate on the first thrust. Grantaire tries to buck his hips, but with the pillow beneath him and the ropes around him, he has nowhere to go and nothing to do but lie there and take what Enjolras gives him.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this. You’re the perfect plaything. So receptive to every little thing.” Enjolras is watching Grantaire as he slides another finger in beside the first and speeds up a bit, finding a rhythm. Grantaire moans long and loud the first time those fingers hit his prostate full on and pulls at his bindings, chafing already red and angry skin.

But everything is perfect. The pleasure and the pain and the inability to do anything about either…it’s the best he’s felt in a very long while.

Enjolras slips in a third finger and uses all three to do nothing but viciously fuck Grantaire with them. He can feel himself getting close, his cock steadily leaking already, and he lets loose with his words, begging properly this time.

“Oh my god, Sir please, _please_ let me come. Please, I’ll be so good for you, I’ll do anything, just please, please let me come. I’m so close, please. Oh god, oh god, I can’t…” he tapers off into nonsense.

“Yes you can, just a little longer, Grantaire. Just hold on a little longer. You sound so pretty when you beg me to come. It’s one of my favorite sounds.” Grantaire is whimpering now, tears streaming down his face as he tries to hold on to his control, but it’s so _hard_ when Enjolras is milking his prostate like that.

A few seconds later, while Grantaire has his head thrown back into the pillow with his eyes screwed shut, Enjolras twists his fingers and grabs the chain and _pulls_ and whispers, “Come.”

That is it. Grantaire screams and comes so hard he feels warm wetness splash against his neck. He stays there, in that state, floating in post-orgasmic bliss until he notices Enjolras untying his torso and legs. In one swift movement, he places Grantaire’s legs on his shoulders and slides his cock all the way into Grantaire.

Grantaire cries out softly and clenches down on Enjolras, still sensitive and twitching. Enjolras moans and squeezes Grantaire’s legs tightly as he sets a breakneck pace. Grantaire’s softening cock tries to show interest once more, but is unable to. (Grantaire doesn’t blame it.) A few moments later, Enjolras comes with a shout and slumps as much as he can while still holding Grantaire’s legs, panting and glistening with sweat.

Grantaire cannot physically do anything but watch Enjolras as he slides out of Grantaire and gently lowers his legs back to the bed massaging sore ankles as he goes. He removes the clamps quickly, lightly rubbing the abused flesh when Grantaire moans. He’d forgotten how much it hurt when they finally came off. Next, his hands are unfastened and his wrists lovingly kissed. Silence falls over the room, neither of them needing or wanting to talk for a few moments more.

Enjolras leans down and kisses Grantaire with so much passion that Grantaire reaches up with his aching arms and tangles his fingers in Enjolras’ hair. They needed this. Time alone to let go and just be with each other. Enjolras pulls back and smiles, big and full, like Grantaire hasn’t seen him do in a while.

“Will you be okay while I get a washcloth and the ointment?”

“Yes. I’ll just be here. Not moving.” Enjolras steals one more kiss and heads toward the bathroom. On his way back he grabs two orange juices from the mini fridge and puts everything on the bed beside Grantaire. He cleans Grantaire with a warm cloth and then applies ointment to his very sore nipples. After he drains half of his juice under Enjolras’ watchful eye, they curl up together, tangling arms and legs until they’re a mass of comfortable and exhausted limbs.

Some days are hard, with their demanding schedules, worn tempers, and sometimes-clashing personalities, but other days, well. Other days are perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know this took forever, but I've been busy with life stuff. (Not to kill the hot and sexy vibe I just created, but I'm currently growing uterus fruit! Which is tiring and apparently long-term sickness-inducing.) But, I had half of this written for ages and finally decided to finish it. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> My tumblr can be found [here](http://www.agentxinfinity.tumblr.com). Feel free to come say hi or comment.
> 
> (Also, thanks so much for all the nice comments and kudos and such on my other stuff. It means so much and honestly makes my day.)


End file.
